Alice
by Kira Regulus Black
Summary: Somewhere, there was a tiny dream. The tiny dream began to think. I don't want to disappear. How can I make people dream of me? The tiny dream thought, and came up with an idea. I'll make humans get lost in me, and let them create the world. Dark!fic ROR


**Readers Note: This is happening winter of Fourth Year. Pretend the Triwizard Tournament isn't happening.**

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><p><em>"Somewhere, there was a tiny dream. Such a tiny dream it was,<br>No one knew who had dreamt it. The tiny dream began to think.  
>'I don't want to disappear this way.<br>How can I make people dream of me?'  
>The tiny dream thought and thought, and then came up with an idea.<br>'I'll make humans get lost in me, and let them create the world.'"_

_-Alice Human Sacrifice lyrics, animelyrics . com_

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><p>Harry paced miserably down the hallways of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing loudly in the absence of the students who normally would be crowding the hallways with their friends at this time of day. Even the tinsel looked dejected, hanging limply from its various hooks and nails. Ron and Hermione had left him- everyone had left him for their families and the warmth of a nice crackling Yule fire. Of course, he had let them- there was nothing he could have said, really. How could he spoil their newly found affection for each other?<p>

_Yeah, sorry, just forgot to mention I didn't have any other friends besides you guys, right? You're the best friends in the world!_

Harry snorted bitterly. No, he knew when he wasn't wanted.

What made matters worse, though, was that nearly everyone else had gone home as well- even dour old Professor Snape. The only ones left were Harry, Filch, and two or so Ravenclaw upper years he didn't know all that well. The hallways were empty, and he was left to the company of his increasingly morbid thoughts…

It was as if Hogwarts was divided in half: the bright, cheerful part everyone saw, and then the empty, dreary, lonely, _dark_ place that it was now. Even the portraits were gone to visit their friends, and with Peeves and the other ghosts vanished off somewhere (Sleeping? Did ghosts ever sleep?) he was well and truly _alone_. He shivered slightly, all of his senses suddenly hyperaware.

It was then that he noticed it. The door. He'd been here before- rarely, true, but here nonetheless- and he _knew _there hadn't been a door there before… It was rather nondescript, but it had a sort of warm and welcoming feel to it that banished the faint chill Harry had been feeling.

He pushed it open cautiously and blinked in surprise.

"What the…"

He knew it wasn't possible, had to be some sort of illusion… He unconsciously took two steps into the room, fingertips still brushing the cool wood of the door. Grass cushioned his trainers, a scent of warm earth washing over him.

There was a peaceful green meadow inside the room. The air was warm and inviting, and the air smelled faintly of flowers. The faint buzz of insects hung lightly in the air, and two metres away, a large white rabbit twitched its nose and hopped farther away.

He glanced doubtfully back into the dour hallway of stone. It could be dangerous, but… He snuck another look at the peaceful scenery. Far in the distance, pine trees swayed appealingly in an unseen wind. Surely a few minutes couldn't hurt…

He propped the door open with a stick and walked in, the grass wonderfully cushioning his feet so that each step felt like he was walking on air. He broke into a run, laughing from glee, as the white rabbit looked on admonishingly. He slipped and went tumbling head over heels down a gentle slope, grass sticking to his robes and in his hair. He eagerly got up and wandered farther in, thoughts of the door disappearing. Behind him, the small door slyly shut and vanished, the woodland humming contentedly. And the room was happy. It had a person in it, and the person was happy, so it was happy. Its purpose was fulfilled. It had been lonely for so long…

Hermione fidgeted anxiously, twisting a stand of curly hair around one finger absently as she arranged herself to sit more comfortably on her trunk.

"Ron?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Where's Harry?" she asked worriedly. "He would have been here to meet us by now…"

Ron's forehead furrowed. "Dunno." he grunted. "Maybe he's busy?"

But Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

Later that day at dinner in the Great Hall, they anxiously scanned the incoming flood of students, but a glimpse of emerald eyes or unruly black hair eluded them. Hermione was by now, well and truly worried. She asked her friends, but…

"Ron," she said, eyes shadowed. "No one's seen Harry since a month or so before Christmas. What-"

Ron continued to shovel food in his mouth. "He'll be back." he promised her between bites. "Harry always is." Yet, even his face held some doubt.

When Harry failed to appear to classes the following week, a schoolwide search was organized. The professors went from room to room, and trawled the hallways for some sign- any sign- of the elusive Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione and Ron joined them, and so it was they found themselves pacing in an abandoned seventh floor corridor one sunny afternoon.

"BLOODY-" Ron exploded.

"Ron! Language!" Hermione reprimanded wearily, almost too tired to care.

He turned on her angrily. "Don't tell me you're not as frustrated as I am, 'Mione! We've looked through every _bloody_ _MERLIN FORSAKEN ROOM IN THIS CASTLE!_ I swear, when I catch Harry, I will personally shake him so hard he'll wish he'd never even _thought_ of disappearing on us!"

"Every room?" Hermione mumbled. "But I could have sworn…we've never seen that one before…"

She pointed listlessly at the small door that, sure enough, seemed almost to spring magically from the wall behind Ron.

"What…on_ earth_…" muttered Ron, eyes wide.

Hermione sat up straight, eyes focusing. "Get Professor Dumbledore." she snapped. "I think we've found him."

Ron pelted down the hallway, robes flapping behind him, wand forgotten.

Five nerve-wracking minutes later, the staff found themselves assembled in front of an ordinary-looking cherry-wood door that seemed to be trying to shrink away from their gazes.

Dumbledore shook his head wearily, sadness tightening the lines on his face. "I had hoped it had not come to this…"

"What had come to this, Professor?" Hermione parroted.

"The Room of Requirement." Professor Snape said suddenly. The staff shifted uneasily.

"Another one…" Professor McGonagall averted her eyes.

Professor Sprout spoke up. "There's always one, the poor dears." She shook her head. "I had hoped…"

"What?" Ron raged. "What do you mean? Harry's not dead, I tell you!"

Flitwick shook his head silently. "Let the boy alone." he advised Pomona. "The first shock is always the worst."

Snape simply reached out, and, taking firm hold of the handle, wrenched the door open with a loud shlucking sound.

Ron recoiled, and Hermione screamed. Inside, there sat a slightly moldering boy-sized corpse. The white curves of a skull glinted through the unrecognizable face. Unfortunately, the red and gold tie was plain to see.

"No one can live forever." Snape said softly. "The five principle exceptions to Gamp's Law of Transfiguration. The Room cannot create food- the semblance of food, yes, but it will not sustain you."

Ron snapped, punching Snape in the nose and grabbing the front of his robes. "He'll back! Harry will always come back! He's the Boy-Who-Lived! He saved my sis from a bloody _BASILISK!_ If he can do that, he can do anything! _He'll. Be. Back_." He punctuated each word with a shake. Snape let him, dark eyes watching silently.

"Mr. Weasley!" exclaimed Sprout. "How dare-"

Snape spoke. "Let him." he said softly. "If it makes him feel any better." He jerked his head towards the corpse. "The sooner you realize he is gone, Mr. Weasley, the sooner you can begin to let him go."

Ron let go of Snape's robes, angry tears glistening in his eyes. "Fuck off. Harry not going anywhere, and neither am I."

Snape stood up from where he had fallen and briefly adjusted his robes. "Believe me, Mr. Weasley, I am speaking for all of us." His eyes glinted dangerously. "The more you allow yourself to be consumed by this delusion, the more the room will call to you. But there is a price. There is always a price. Your friend Harry has just found his to be fatal."

Hermione gave a half-sob. "What- what does it-"

"Your greatest hopes and desires, Ms. Granger."

The warning hung heavy in the air as the impromptu gathering dispersed.

Dumbledore kindly put a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder and beckoned to Hermione. "Come. It is best not to dwell on such dark things, children."

He led them off silently, stealing a look over his shoulder, blue eyes for once solemn and regretful.

The door waited, gleaming a cheery red in the distance. It could wait. It had all the time in the world. All… the time… in the world…

He watched it a moment longer before steeling himself and turning away.

"No." Dumbledore said softly, almost to himself. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live…not at all."

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><p>AN: The idea for this fic comes from the quintessential question: Just HOW much can the Room of Requirement do? JKR never explains, and "it can do anything you want" creates gaping plotholes. I mean, you could freakin' LIVE in the ROR... create your own world- do anything you want, fulfill your wildest dreams.

But there has to be a reason why people don't. Also, we get fics that have Harry living in there, and eating, and reading... There has to be limits to the Room. It's too good to be true. There's always a catch...

So, I made this. :D Kinda creeped me out, vaguely mirrors (was it delusion?) from the manga _Nightmare Inspector_ and took up a good 2 and a half hours. Oh, and just for the record, Harry is still, somewhere, playing in the Room. His body is dead, yeah, but as long as he can imagine, he'll still exist. Its why the door could disappear- he wasn't thinking about it, so the Room could change it.

~K.R.B.


End file.
